Demon Song

me to a chair. My knives were on the table and I gratefully put them back in their sheaths. I really didn’t want Edgar to get his hands on them.

The sumptuous scent of cumin, chili powder, and onions rose in the steam from a shake glass. Yum. A sunset smoothie. Just like Mama never made. I put the straw between my lips and … ow! Okay, sucking was a bad plan. Who knew it required uninjured teeth? So, while everyone stared at me, I drank down the shake like it was a tall glass of milk. I’d lost blood, so I wasn’t going to cringe about the contents.

It was good enough that I ordered a second. At least two adventurous people ordered one as well. Who knew? It might be the next hot thing in the restaurant if the surprised but delighted expressions of the others were any indication.

By the time I left an hour later, my purse still the same weight as when I arrived due to Pablo insisting my food was on the house, I was full but exhausted beyond all reason. Edgar and Marco were still out there, waiting for me to be alone. There was only one place where I’d feel safe, and it was the same place I’d woken up this morning.

After I changed all the alarm codes and locks, of course.

The night was about to get even longer.

9

I woke to the wailing of the front-door alarm. I’d like to say I leapt to my feet, ready for action. But in reality it was more a case of rolling off the couch to land in a heap on the floor while rubbing the crust of sleep from my eyes. Still, I made it to the door before more than a few seconds passed and bolted out into the hallway, my Colt steady in front of me, watching for threats.

“Enter the code!” Ron was shouting to be heard over the siren. I could hear Dawna punching in numbers until he pushed her aside. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Let me do it.”

It was worth watching from the balcony for a moment to see him enter the old code once, then twice, before pressing random keys and then banging on the box.

“Jeez, Ron! Don’t break the thing.” I sprinted down the stairs and slid in front of him while holstering my gun. I entered the new code and the alarm shut off.

While Dawna shook her head back and forth to get the ringing to stop, I explained: “I got attacked by some vampires last night. Two of them got away and one knows where this building is. I wanted to make sure he couldn’t get in without my knowing. Sorry about that. I’d expected to wake up before you got here.”

Dawna let out a heaving sigh. “I’ll call the police and the alarm company. Shit, Celia. You could have left me a voice mail or something. I’m not in a mood to deal with filling out reports and now I’ve got a headache.”

She looked like she hadn’t slept any longer than I had. “Sorry,” I repeated. Ron left in a snit, muttering something about bringing up changing codes at the next tenant meeting.

“You okay?” I asked, noticing the dark shadows under her eyes that even the most skillful makeup couldn’t hide anymore. “Really. Be honest.”

She stared at the phone, receiver in hand. Her eyes closed and her lip trembled. “I just need a vacation. Life is just too … well, too right now.”

Now I felt like a heel. She was right. I could have left her a voice mail. Vampires or not, demons or not, Dawna was my best friend. I should have been more considerate. So screw Edgar and Marco. Gwen was right. Dawna needed to get away and so did I.

But first things first. “Did Justin come by yesterday?”

She nodded. “You were right … as usual. He found two upstairs. One in the hallway right outside your office and one in the light fixture next to your desk. Oh, and he said he has an idea about what to do with your safe when the baby’s born.” At least that made her smile.

“Well, just in case he missed any, let’s go out for a quick bagel. I have news that I think you’ll want to hear. Give me ten minutes to run a comb through my hair. I literally just woke up.”

She grimaced. “Ron will be pissed. He has clients coming in, and you have a meeting in thirty.”

I reached across the half wall and put my hand over hers. Then I looked firmly at her and squeezed her hand. “Screw Ron; screw his clients and mine, too. We need ten minutes out of here. It’s important.”

She’d just opened her mouth to respond when the first clients came in. She held up her hands helplessly and there was nothing I could do. I’d wanted to tell her about the spa thing early so she could plan to have the weekend off, but it’d have to wait.

On the plus side, I could get cleaned up for the day and maybe have time to go online before my first appointment arrived and find just the right spa. I decided to make three reservations. After the stress of Kevin being captured, I had no doubt Emma could use a break, too. I hoped I could convince Gwen of that. Emma was still in her first thirty days at Birchwoods. There weren’t supposed to be any day passes and she’d already had one, for our shopping trip.

It took twenty minutes and many mouse clicks before I found just the right place. There would be facials, massages, and even a seaweed wrap. I’d never had one of those before, but for some reason it appealed to me.

“Celia,” came Dawna’s voice from the speakerphone. “Your … client is here. I think.”

Well, that was an interesting way to phrase it. “Okay. Send them up.” I took the final sip of my vanilla shake and dropped the can in the trash as I glanced at my calendar. Maria Bustamante was the client, but the handwriting wasn’t mine or Dawna’s. It looked like … Ron’s.

Huh?

One nice thing about our group is we freely send clients back and forth. But while I’ve had several referrals from Bubba pop up on my calendar, not one had ever come from Ron.

A tentative knock sounded, just a light tapping that I might not have noticed if I hadn’t been expecting it. “Come in.”

I checked my outfit as I stood. Royal blue slacks, patterned sky blue top, careful makeup, and just a little curl in my hair. Putting on the blazer was hard after having my arms nearly ripped out, but at least my teeth didn’t hurt anymore. Still, every time I looked in the mirror lately I saw chalk white skin and dark, bruised-looking circles under my eyes. Add in the fangs and if I didn’t start to get some more sleep, even more people were going to think I was trying out for a horror movie.

The door opened and the woman … actually, the child who walked in had the gun- shy look of someone who was being threatened. She watched every corner, every shadow, in the room. Her wide brown eyes moved constantly as she walked forward. She didn’t acknowledge the hand I held out but instead sat quickly in one of the big chairs and immediately curled her legs up under her thighs.

Oookay.

“So. Maria?”

She nodded and finally focused on my face. Her eyes were showing too much white and her breathing was fast and shallow. “Yes.” The movement was tiny and frail, a baby bird who knew the hawk was watching … waiting until she was in the open.

“Are you even fifteen yet?” I’d never been hired by someone younger than that. Most of my child clients were actors or singers who were being stalked by fans or needed guarding from their own family. But usually I was hired by a publicist, agent, or parent—someone who could legally sign the agreement.

Another movement, this time a shake. My firm voice startled her and actually calmed her down. “I’ll be thirteen in March.”

Twelve. Dear God. I’d been right when I thought child. I started envisioning an abusive parent or a sexual predator. Those weren’t the sort of things a bodyguard could fix. But I was at least willing to listen. “Okay. So tell me what the problem is.”

Somehow her eyes got even wider. “I need a bodyguard.”

No, duh. “I presumed that. Why did you go to an attorney first and why did he refer you to me?” Ultimately, my mind kept going back there. What had she told Ron that he felt he couldn’t help her with? Because as much of